


mirror, mirror...

by goldhorn (englishsummerrain)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Lace Panties, M/M, Ten in thigh highs and a dress, fucking in costume, listen you know exactly what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27281545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishsummerrain/pseuds/goldhorn
Summary: It really isn't Ten's fault Kun is so fucking hot in the dress. It might be his fault for pushing his buttons, though.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 27
Kudos: 209





	mirror, mirror...

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 user englishsummerrain writes hyungline for a very special occasion aka milf kun.
> 
> brief note that there are some mentions of outdated gender norms (ie. men can't wear dresses) at the start of the fic.

There are some moments that give you a whole new outlook on life. That make you reconsider things. Take for example the fact that Ten, at the tender age of fourteen, had very resoundly decided he would never ever want to have sex with anyone who wore a dress.

Take for example the fact that Qian fucking  _ Kun _ always seemed to fuck things up for him.

Really, it isn’t Ten’s fault. Kun just looks fucking good in  _ everything _ . He’s just so effortlessly hot — and even hotter when he actually puts effort into it. Like, for fucks sakes, he’d curled his fucking eyelashes. Unlike Dejun (who’d whined about being emasculated before Sicheng had told him to shut up and put the dress on) Kun had taken delight in it, spinning around in the dressing room, cooing to Yukhei about ‘mirror mirror on the wall’. 

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” Ten had said, and Kun had grinned at him — the kind of grin born from his attempts to get back at Ten’s endless crusade of annoying the living shit out of him.

“Why wouldn’t I? Or are you feeling emasculated too? You look cute in those socks, you know.”

“I don’t feel my manhood threatened by a piece of clothing,” Ten had said. He didn’t. He’d worn a maid outfit for a trainee Christmas party once — complete with cat ears and whiskers painted on with some poor unknown party’s eyeliner. “I’m just surprised.”

“Why? You like what you see?” Kun had said, and he’d hitched up his skirt to reveal a muscular calf and blown Ten a kiss.

Something happened between there and now. Well, Ten knows what happened. He’d spent so fucking long staring at Kun in that stupid fucking wig and that stupid fucking dress he’d practically started salivating with horny anger, because  _ no-one _ should look that good in a cheap ass costume.

No-one except Qian fucking Kun. 

Ten’s hand shoots out to grab at a shelf as Kun kisses his cock through his shorts, and he collides with something hard. Some cleaning product or piece of recording equipment or other kind of bullshit long forgotten that shatters on the floor, and that Ten doesn’t care about. The light is off but there’s enough illumination spilling in from the hall that he can make out Kun through the gloom — still wearing his wig, hair tickling Ten’s thighs, head ducked under his skirt as he mouths at his cock.

“Hurry up and put it in your mouth,” Ten says. He’s not going to betray the fact he absolutely wants to get railed by Kun — not yet. Not in this dusty, musty closet at least.

“You know,” Kun says, instead of actually listening to him, “I can see the merit in skirts. No fumbling with zippers. I can just stick my head under here and pull your shorts down—” he yanks on the waistband of Ten’s safety shorts, pulling them down his thighs and exposing his cock to the cool air “—easy as that.”

“Are you suggesting I wear skirts more often?”

“Are you offering?” Kun says with a chuckle. He wraps his hand around Ten’s cock and starts to pump it. 

“I don’t fucking know,” Ten says. His voice is already hitching — damn his tendency to fall to pieces so fucking quickly in Kun’s hands. “I don’t fucking know. Just suck my cock. Christ.”

Kun — for all his tendency to snap back at Ten or roll his eyes or generally not put up with his shit — acquises. He takes Ten’s cock into his mouth and Ten gasps, hips twitching, the wet heat of Kun’s mouth swallowing him whole. 

Mind you, Ten can’t actually see him — he can just see the shape of him under his skirt — and he thinks it’s almost a shame, because Kun must look so pretty right now with his cock in his mouth. His imagination will have to do for now. He’s sure he’ll get the real thing later. 

Kun knows him well. He knows not to tease — not here anyway. Not when there’s people waiting on them, not when they’re running on a high. Not when Ten is brimming with energy, a heat that thrums under his skin. Ten fucks into his mouth and Kun just takes him deeper — curling his tongue, cupping his balls, running his thumb over the sensitive skin.

Ten comes quick. He doesn’t try to hold back — he just sinks into it, thinking about how hot Kun must look right now. The flash of his thighs as he’d danced, the curl of his eyelashes. His lip tint that’s probably smeared all over Ten’s cock. How his throat must bob as he swallows his cum — the dazed look in his eyes. 

“Come on,” Kun says, ducking his head out from under Ten’s skirt and smoothing it down as he stands up. He presses a kiss to Ten’s lips — the taste of his cum lingering — then tugs at his arm. “Let’s go before Yangyang comes up with too many stories about what we’re doing right now.”

  
  


*

  
  


“Out!” Ten says, pointing to the door as if he’s talking to Bella and not his groupmate. “Get out!”

Hendery’s eyebrows rise into his hair, but he’s smirking. His gaze flicks down and Ten resists the urge to defend the fact that he’s very much still dressed in his costume. 

“Seriously! Get out!” Ten repeats, and Hendery breaks into laughter. 

“Let me get my fucking sweater before you sexile me,” he says, crossing the room to reach into their overflowing closet and dislodge a hoodie from the structurally unsound pile of clothes. He picks it up — shakes it out, sniffs it, wrinkles his nose then decides it’s apparently good enough — and gives one last laugh to Ten before he leaves, airly telling him to have fun. 

Ten huffs and sits down on the bed. He’s given up on trying to hide. The entire world knows they’re fucking — better to use the threat of having to witness Kun’s bare ass to get everyone else out of his room.

“Wow,” Kun says, when he comes into the room, clutching his wig in his hand, “I didn’t think you were actually serious.”

“Shut up,” Ten says. He’s not here to give him ammunition — he just wants his dick in his ass. “You are truly the only person in the world who looks hot in a wig that bad.”

Kun pouts, then laughs. “Maybe you’re just horny and desperate. Ever consider that?”

“Says the guy who blew me in a storage closet.”

“That’s true,” Kun says, and it’s like a switch is flipped. Eyes dark, voice dropping. Like he’s on the prowl. “But can you really blame me? You knew exactly what you were doing in those thigh-highs.”

“Making weak boys horny?”

In an instant Kun is across the room — in an instant he’s crashing into him. Grasping at him, kissing him, growling he fists his hands into the fabric of Ten’s dress. 

“You’re giving me a lot of fucking lip,” Kun says — and Ten laughs, heat shooting through him, his cock twitching. Hearing Kun curse — hearing him say such filthy words — he’ll never get sick of it. Such a dirty word coming from someone who holds himself so properly is like a reminder of the power Ten has. How easy it is for him to break him.

“Am I?” Ten asks, and Kun breaks off, nosing down his neck, kissing along his throat and hitching his dress up to grab at his ass. 

He hits the mattress with a thud — a noise somewhere between a gasp and a laugh escaping from his throat as Kun pins him down — as he follows him. Climbing over his body, dark heat simmering in his gaze.

Oh, Ten fucking  _ loves _ this. It’s why he’ll give him so much lip. Why he teases him so much. That beautiful moment when Kun’s patience snaps, like a wire humming at far too high a frequency, so strung out he can’t contain himself any longer. When he picks Ten up and fucks him against a wall. When he takes the chance to plant a kiss on him then and there — when he gets so fucking frustrated he sees the feral want break to the surface. He’s so patient, so calm and collected, and Ten loves that he can be the one to break that.

He loves the reward too. 

“You’re wearing panties,” Kun says, poised between his legs — and Ten’s sure it’s supposed to come out as a scoff, or incredulous, but instead it comes out with a tinge of desperation. 

“Do you like them?”

They’re black, lacy, soft. Obviously not made for someone like Ten — his cock is straining against them and no matter how he’d tried his balls had just kept spilling out — but just at the mention of them Ten feels arousal twist in his gut. Knowing Kun is looking at them right now — yeah, that’s good.

“Were you wearing these during practice?”

Ten nods. He’s surprised Kun didn’t notice when he’d blown him — thought he surprises then he might have been a bit more preoccupied. 

“Hmmph.”

It’s enough. Ten gets it. He wonders how hard Kun might be right now — and then he gets his answer as he peers down and sees a very obvious tent at the front of his dress. 

_ Fuck _ .

Kun works him open. Two fingers straight away, Ten already loose from the last time they’d fucked — already raring to go. Gasping, clenching around him. It’s not a tease — it’s just prep. It’s just Kun making sure he won’t hurt him — a necessity. Smearing lube everywhere, jerking at Ten’s cock, kissing his thigh where his sock ends. 

When he’s done there’s no preamble. No tease, no coo. Kun withdraws his fingers and wipes them on the sheets and then, with a casualness that makes Ten want to sob, orders him to get on his hands and knees.

Listen. Ten knows he’s a brat. He’s a bitch most of the time, let’s be real. He lives to make Kun miserable — to turn his hair grey and make him roll his eyes. It’s something that comes second nature to him — an ‘I love you’ in any other language. 

He can ignore it and express himself in other ways. He can do what Kun asks of him — shorts discarded on the floor, ass in the air, panties hugging weakly at his leaking cock as he hitches his skirt up and waits for the dip of the bed. 

“You look so hot,” Kun says, and his fingers push the panties aside, brushing against his hole, smearing more lube. Ten just whines, spreading his legs apart further and pushing back against Kun’s fingers.

“Hurry up and fuck me then.”

“Fine,” Kun says, and before Ten can make another snarky comment — something about him lifting his skirts, maybe, or about his old man cock not working — Kun fits his cock inside of him.

The sound Ten makes is something between a moan and a yowl — feral almost, like he’s in heat. Honestly with his ass up in the air and Kun’s fingers on his hips and how fucking  _ hard _ he is he basically feels like he’s in heat — he feels like he’s about to go cock stupid. He fucking  _ loves _ Kun’s cock — loves holding it in his hand, tasting it, the scent of his musk, running his tongue all over his balls — but most of all he loves when he’s inside of him. Spreading him open, slipping in with a blunt pressure. Kun adjusts himself with a gasp, sliding out slightly, and Ten waits. He holds his breath and tries not to beg, and he’s rewarded as Kun pulls almost all the way out — cock dragging inside him — then  _ slams _ back in.

Ten gasps, hand shooting out to grasp at the sheets. “Fuck,” he says. “Fucking hell, Kun. Do you mind not trying to split me in half with you dick for once in your life?”

“You love it,” Kun says. 

He is — unfortunately — right. 

“Fuck you,” Ten says, though it comes out breathy and whiny — high pitched, strained. “Fuck you, fuck you. Just fuck me already.”

“I can do that,” Kun says. “Been wanting to do that for a while.” He starts to move, short, sharp thrusts that send tiny sparks of pleasure through Ten, Kun’s hand already closed around his cock. “Wanted to do this since I saw you in those socks. Who’s idea was that?”

“Mine,” Ten says. “Just like the panties.”

“Fuck,” Kun groans. “I wanted to fuck you right on the floor there.”

_ That _ gets Ten going (as if he isn’t already). He clenches around Kun, dropping his face into the sheets and arching his back, skirts falling across his shoulders, air cool on his bare ass as Kun pistons into him. 

“You should have,” he says. “Would have been a sight to see.”

“Shut up,” Kun says, and he shoves Ten’s face down — burying his moan in the sheets, slap of his hips so fucking loud Ten wants to scream. 

They’ve already joked about the ill-fated efforts to soundproof the door in Yangyang’s room, and that maybe it would have been more useful in this room, if only to cover up the sounds Ten makes. The whines as Kun punches into him, a rough chant for him to fuck him. 

“Bet you’d like that,” Kun says, and he’s growling now, cock spreading him open, dragging inside him, filling Ten up to the brim. “Used and fucked on the floor. All filled up with cum and left to look after yourself.”

“Yes,” Ten gasps, and his hips twitch, entire body shaking with how badly he wants to come. He loves Kun like this — when he runs his mouth, when his veneer cracks open, such a perfect mask slipped to the side to show just how badly he wants Ten. “Fuck me how you’d fuck me then.”

Kun comes. He gasps, stutters, growling as his thrusts turn erratic. He fills Ten up and pushes him down into the sheets, stroking him through it until Ten spills all over his hand, gasping and whimpering when Kun pulls out of him. He collapses onto the mattress, skirt rumpling under him, and Kun slaps his ass like he's sending off a boat.

“Thanks, Alice,” he says. Ten grunts, not particularly appreciating the reminder that they had just fucked in Disney princess costumes.

“Any time.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is garbage but i think we all needed it.


End file.
